ey, exhausted by his effort, fell into a light
doze, and Philip sat down by the bed and waited for the end. The morning
wore on, and the old man's breathing grew stertorous. The doctor came and
said he was dying. He was unconscious and he pecked feebly at the sheets;
he was restless and he cried out. Dr. Wigram gave him a hypodermic
injection.

"It can't do any good now, he may die at any moment."

The doctor looked at his watch and then at the patient. Philip saw that it
was one o'clock. Dr. Wigram was thinking of his dinner.

"It's no use your waiting," he said.

"There's nothing I can do," said the doctor.

When he was gone Mrs. Foster asked Philip if he would go to the carpenter,
who was also the undertaker, and tell him to send up a woman to lay out
the body.

"You want a little fresh air," she said, "it'll do you good."

The undertaker lived half a mile away. When Philip gave him his message,
he said:

"When did the poor old gentleman die?"

Philip hesitated. It occurred to him that it would seem brutal to fetch a
woman to wash the body while his uncle still lived, and he wondered why
Mrs. Foster had asked him to come. They would think he was in a great
hurry to kill the old man off. He thought the undertaker looked at him
oddly. He repeated the question. It irritated Philip. It was no business
of his.

"When did the Vicar pass away?"

Philip's first impulse was to say that it had just happened, but then it
would seem inexplicable if the sick man lingered for several hours. He
reddened and answered awkwardly.

"Oh, he isn't exactly dead yet."

The undertaker looked at him in perplexity, and he hurried to explain.

"Mrs. Foster is all alone and she wants a woman there. You understood,
don't you? He may be dead by now."

The undertaker nodded.

"Oh, yes, I see. I'll send someone up at once."

When Philip got back to the vicarage he went up to the bed-room. Mrs.
Foster rose from her chair by the bed-side.

"He's just as he was when you left," she said.

She went down to get herself something to eat, and Philip watched
curiously the process of death. There was nothing human now in the
unconscious being that struggled feebly. Sometimes a muttered ejaculation
issued from the loose mouth. The sun beat down hotly from a cloudless sky,
but the trees in the garden were pleasant and cool. It was a lovely day.
A bluebottle buzzed against the windowpane. Suddenly there was a loud
rattle, it made Philip